


All of You

by Moonykins



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Chubby Jaskier | Dandelion, Force-Feeding, M/M, Stuffing, Tube Feeding, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23605081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonykins/pseuds/Moonykins
Summary: “That concoction was made by a sorceress friend of mine. It's quite delicious, don't you think?” Jaskier couldn't argue with that. It was quite tasty and he found himself gulping it down at first simply because of how parched he was. “It's also quite fattening.”Oh. Oh. So that was Valdo's plan.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 199





	All of You

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, heed the tags. Don't like, don't read. If you enjoy it then feel free to leave a comment, please!

The first thing he noticed was the amount of pain his head was in as he slowly came to. It felt like he had been bashed over the head with something particularly heavy and Jaskier couldn't clear the fog from his mind to try and remember exactly what had happened. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton that wouldn't clear despite how many times he tried to swallow. The light of the room bothered his eyes, making him snap them shut the moment he dared open them. The little peek he had gotten didn't tell him anything about where he was but he could tell it definitely wasn't the inn he had been in the night prior.

The room was cold and made entirely out of stone from what he saw upon opening his eyes next. He winced against the pain in his head and surveyed his surroundings—a seemingly empty bedroom. A bedroom where he was chained to one wall with just enough give to be able to stand up if he wished (he didn't). He wracked his brain and tried to remember how he had gotten here.

The last thing he could remember was playing at an inn the previous night and drinking. A lot. Oh, and it had been a shit night because of all the people to run into Jaskier had somehow met his arch nemesis; Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris. Jaskier remembers having a competition of sorts with the man, nothing out of taste, just a show of talent. The audience had chosen him as the winner, clearly, and Jaskier had taken to his room.

The next thing he knew he had woken up here.

Jaskier had been kidnapped enough times to be able to work out what had happened here. Valdo had obviously drugged his drinks the night prior and dragged him from the inn. He had been in Cidaris at the time, so it wasn't unlikely that Jaskier currently resided in his home.

He tested the handcuffs around his wrists but found that they were sturdy. He had nothing to pick the locks with as the room was empty and his belongings were no where to be found (along with his shirt). He was left to sit on the cold stone floor until the door finally opened and the bastard himself stepped into the room.

“Ah, Jaskier!” Valdo said in greeting, a huge shit-eating grin spread across his smarmy face. “So good that you could join me! We really didn't get enough of a chance to catch up last night so I figured I would invite you back to mine for a little chit-chat.”

Jaskier simply glared in reply. “I'd sooner bite off my tongue than 'chit-chat' with you. Now let me go.”

Valdo laughed and snapped his fingers. A servant came in, pushing a large drum of something—Jaskier couldn't quite tell what. A long tube stemmed from the bottom of it, so he could only assume it was some sort of drink. That might be good because Jaskier was thirsty as hell, but he had no idea why the servant was bringing in an entire drum instead of just fetching him a glass of water.

The drum was set beside Jaskier, who temporarily looked it over, finding no ill will about it.

Valdo walked closer, towering before Jaskier and taking hold of the tube attached to the drum. He twirled it around his hands, that smirk still in place. “That's fine. We're not going to talk for long anyway.”

“A mistake on your part,” Jaskier pointed out, eyeing the tube and growing a bit weary. What did Valdo plan to do with that thing? “Kidnapping me, I mean.”

“It's not just a simple kidnapping. I'm going to finally exact my revenge upon you.” Valdo pointed out, only serving to make Jaskier laugh.

"Oh hoho! You've made yet another mistake, Valdo! I am the friend of a  _ Witcher _ . Haven't you heard my songs? Geralt will come swooping in here to save me any moment!”

Valdo stretched out the tubing in his hand. “I think not. The Witcher is off on a contract at the moment, is he not? We'll be finished before he even notices you were gone.”

Jaskier quirked an eyebrow, growing nervous. “Finished with what? Are you going to kill me?”

This time it was Valdo's turn to laugh. He came over and caressed the side of Jaskier's face. “Oh no, my dear friend. I'm simply here to ruin your reputation. They say vanity is a sin, is it not?”

That made Jaskier's heart start beating faster in his chest. “So what are you going to do? Beat me until no one will recognize my face? Because I could take it. I've had much worse than anything you could possibly dish out, Valdo.”

Valdo wagged a finger in Jaskier's face and that was when Jaskier realized that the end of the tubing seemed to form a kind of mask. It was meant to be fastened to someone's face. Whatever was in that vat was meant to be consumed. What would it do to him?

“Open up.”

Jaskier clamped his mouth shut and then proceeded to try and bite Valdo's fingers when the man tried to force his jaw open. It took the efforts of both Valdo and the servant to get the tubing inside of Jaskier's mouth and the strap fastened around his head. His muffled insults couldn't be distinguished and he squirmed in his place on the floor, arms unable to reach anywhere near his head as their bolt was to the floor.

“Once you're through with this, no one will give you a second look. Not even that Witcher of yours will want you.” Valdo promised, leaning in close again to see the fear in Jaskier's eyes. “Have fun, Jaskier.” He ruffled his hair, messing it and making it fall in his eyes so that Jaskier had to shake his head in order to see properly again.

At last, Valdo looked to the servant who pulled a handle on the side of the vat. A cool, creamy liquid began to flow into the tubing and straight into Jaskier's mouth.

“That concoction was made by a sorceress friend of mine. It's quite delicious, don't you think?” Jaskier couldn't argue with that. It was quite tasty and he found himself gulping it down at first simply because of how parched he was. “It's also quite fattening.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ So  _ that  _ was Valdo's plan.

Jaskier swallowed, closing his eyes. With no way of pulling the tubing from his mouth, he was forced to drink it down. It didn't seem so bad at first but if it truly was fattening and he was going to drink down a whole barrel of it then who could say how much weight he would gain? A shiver ran down his spine, eyes clamped shut as he refused to look at Valdo who gave his head one last pat.

“I'll come back to check on you shortly, my dear!”

The sound of the door closing gave Jaskier some privacy. Even the servant had gone and Jaskier was alone once more. He tried blocking the flow of the liquid with his tongue but the pressure proved to be too strong. The tubing was too hard to bite down onto and he couldn't just spit it out thanks to the way the mask was fixed on his face.

He kicked out his legs in frustration, body thrashing, forced to gulp down the cold, slushy liquid which settled in his belly, soft and warm.

It wasn't long before he started seeing results. His stomach began to bow out, evident through the fact that Valdo had removed his shirt for him. He had likely done so so that Jaskier could watch himself grow. How disgusting.

Valdo's words rang true in his mind. Geralt was on a contract, that much hadn't been false. Perhaps he would finish days earlier than he had intended. He would get back to the inn and find Jaskier missing and come searching for him. Surely he would save him before he got too fat, right?

It truly was his reputation that Valdo was after. Would the people of the continent find him as attractive if he weighed as much as a horse? Would his songs still hold the same popularity? Would Geralt still want him?

_ Geralt. _

Jaskier shut his eyes against the image of his belly bowing out in front of him. Oh no. Geralt couldn't possibly see him like this. Even if he did come to rescue him, he wouldn't want to keep him around if Jaskier weighed a thousand pounds. It was such a shame, as their relationship had recently escalated. Jaskier had finally managed to crack through Geralt's rough exterior and reach that soft center, getting the Witcher to admit his feelings towards him. They had slept together first, and then Geralt had started getting sweet with him, being much more gentle with him and saying that he couldn't possibly imagine his life without him. He still hadn't said those three little words that Jaskier spoke to him every night before the pair of them fell asleep tangled together but that was alright because Jaskier knew when he was loved.

But would Geralt still love him if his body wasn't as it used to be? Would he still love him if he was pillowy and huge and  _ fat _ ?

A tear fell down Jaskier's cheek.

* * *

“Ah, you're growing quite nicely.”

Jaskier's head snapped up and he glared venomously at Valdo who had entered the room once more. He swept across the floor, over to Jaskier, this time not accompanied by his servant. “My, look how fat you've gotten already!”

It was true. Jaskier's stomach rounded out in front of him, sloshing uncomfortably with every little movement he made. It was tight as a drum as Valdo placed a hand on it, poking and prodding and earning a strained little noise from Jaskier.

“Still think it's delicious? By the time you're done with this you're going to be enormous. Eating this much will just be like a snack for you on a regular basis.”

Valdo's laughter stopped abruptly as a loud  _ ping  _ filled the air. Jaskier looked down but found that he couldn't see below his belly to find out what happened. Luckily for him Valdo bent down to retrieve a button from the floor which he held up for Jaskier's to view.

“Oh my. You're bursting right out of your trousers! You fat slob!”

Jaskier's cheeks turned bright red and he huffed out an aggravated sigh through his nose. He wished he could take Valdo's stupid face and bash it in until he was unrecognizable to the public. Until he could never sing again. Rip his vocal chords out with his own teeth. Claw at his eyes until he could no longer read another note. Bash his ears in until they could no longer hear another song. Stab at his heart, straight through so he would never be able to write another poetic verse for as long as he lived.

But instead all he did was sit there and drink and get fatter.

“Keep drinking, piggy.” Valdo pat Jaskier's chubby cheek rather harshly before straightening up and leaving once more.

* * *

The next time Valdo came back, Jaskier looked as if he was pregnant with triplets. His stomach hung down over the band of his trousers, which had split at the seams and were hanging on for dear life. His thighs had expanded, as well as his ass. The rest of him was pretty much untouched, excluding his face which had filled out some more, giving him a cherubic appearance.

Valdo had the servant switch out the barrel for a new one, but didn't take the tubing from Jaskier's mouth.

He had no idea how long he had been imprisoned there as he didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. Not when he was so busy swallowing everything the barrels had to offer. 

The concoction no longer tasted delicious. It was dull and tasteless and if Jaskier never had to eat another thing ever again he would be happy. If Geralt never found him, he would consider it a win. Perhaps Valdo could just keep him here and he could die in silence. Maybe his stomach would explode.

In fact he was hoping it would.

* * *

A commotion in the hall was what woke him up the next time he chose to close his eyes and try and get some sleep. It didn't sound like Valdo or the mousy servant he kept around either. It sounded almost completely silent. Just a soft thud like someone dropping to the floor.

Jaskier put his guard up, keeping his eyes trained on the door which was slowly opening now. At last, Geralt came into view, wearing his cloak and covered in the blood of what Jaskier could only assume to be the guards at the manor. He gave pause at the sight of the bard, stopping once he closed the door behind him before going about his business, stepping forward and unlocking the handcuffs from around Jaskier's wrists and ankles.

“It's alright,” Geralt whispered, reaching out to finally, blessedly remove the stupid contraption from around Jaskier's head. “I've got you.”

Jaskier fell forward into Geralt's arms, feeling incredibly drained and almost unable to keep his eyes open. He tried to talk but Geralt hushed him, taking off his cloak and draping it over him. Next he collected him in his arms and carried him out the door.

It seemed Geralt had taken care of all of the guards as no one tried to stop them on their way out. Jaskier saw neither hide nor hair of Valdo as they made their way across the lawns where Roach was obediently waiting for them. He secretly hoped that Geralt had killed him but wasn't about to ask any questions seeing as he could hardly keep himself from falling off of Roach as Geralt boosted him up on top of her. Luckily Geralt got on in back of him and held him steady, clicking his tongue to get Roach to gallop her way away from the manor.

Geralt's arms were around him but Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to care that much. Geralt was in hero mode right now. The time for rejection would surely come soon, once they were well and truly out of danger. For now, Jaskier was content just to lean back against Geralt's strong form, finally closing his eyes and breathing out a sigh.

He fell asleep on the way back to the town.

* * *

When next Jaskier opened his eyes he was back in his room at the inn. For a mere moment he wondered if it had all been a dream, but the gurgling from his stomach told him otherwise. He peered down at himself to find that he was still wrapped up in Geralt's cloak. Moving it aside, he found his massive stomach waiting for him. It looked like he had swallowed at least two large watermelons, but by now it was beginning to soften up.

Jaskier gave it an experimental poke, watching it jiggle in response. He blinked and rested a hand on it, finding that it was nice and warm. His hands rubbed in circles, slipping over his sides where rolls of fat had collected. He gripped them (love handles, he assumed) and gave them a shake. His entire belly wobbled and he let out a gasp, finding that his cock was responding in turn, hardening beneath the bed sheets over his legs. 

Well, that was an interesting development. 

Before he could investigate it further, the door opened and Geralt stepped into the room. Their eyes met and Jaskier could have sworn for a moment that the Witcher was blushing. “You're awake.”

Jaskier just nodded, at a loss for words as Geralt shut the door and made his way over to the bed. “Uhm...how did you find me?”

Geralt sat on the edge of the bed, as if he were afraid of spooking Jaskier by coming too close. “All I had to do was ask around. The barmaids told me that a troubadour by the name of Valdo Marx had showed up a few days prior and I figured he was the reason behind your disappearance.” Geralt ducked his head before looking up, golden eyes meeting Jaskier's incredible blue. “I'm just sorry I hadn't gotten back sooner.”

That was when Jaskier realized that his bloated belly was on full display. He covered himself with both the sheets and the cloak that Geralt had given him. “Geralt, I--”

“Why did he do this?” Geralt asked, clearly confused. “He could have beaten you, Jaskier. Could have _killed_ you. I was so worried. I thought I would find you within an inch of your life.”

Jaskier's face scrunched up in anger. “That would have been preferable.”

“How could you say that?” Geralt nearly growled, and now both their tempers were rising. “You're alive! He didn't harm you.”

“How is this not harming me?!” Jaskier finally shouted, breaking the quiet in the room. “He made me hideous, Geralt! He made it so everyone on the continent would laugh at me! Oh, did you hear about Jaskier, the greatest bard on the continent? He's gotten _fat_! Let's sing songs about him for a change! About how fat and hideous he's gotten!”

Big, fat tears were streaming down Jaskier's face now.

“I-I can't even look at myself! I don't recognize me! He's _ruined_ me, Geralt!”

Silence fell over the both of them and for a while all Geralt did was look at Jaskier, working out his words. At last, he reached forward and framed Jaskier's chubby cheeks with his huge hands. He thumbed away the tears, pleased that Jaskier wasn't trying to back peddle away from him. “I don't find you hideous.”

Jaskier gave a dark laugh and swatted Geralt's massive paws away. “Oh, thanks, Geralt. That's comforting and believable.”

“I mean it.”

Jaskier shook his head and looked away from Geralt. “I'm leaving in the morning. I'm keeping your cloak, seeing as it's the only thing that will fit my enormous body at the moment. But, thank you for saving me. It's...it's been...well...it's been the greatest journey of my life.”

Geralt sat up that much straighter. “You're leaving because you think I find you unattractive?”

Jaskier didn't even bother answering that.

“Your looks have nothing to do with the fact that I chose you as my partner, Jaskier.” Geralt's voice was steady, sure. “They're merely a bonus. Even now.”

Jaskier laughed once again, looking up to meet Geralt's eyes. He saw not a shred of doubt in them. They held only truth. “Geralt, how could you possibly--”

Quick as lightning, Geralt reached out and grabbed one of Jaskier's hands. He pressed it to the front of his trousers, giving Jaskier pause. The Witcher was hard. Completely hard.

Blue eyes shot wide open and Jaskier's mouth fell open. “I--”

“For you.” Geralt confirmed, nodding his head in the direction of Jaskier's stomach. “Can I--”

“Yes,” Jaskier breathed, pushing the cloak aside and for the first time in days finding a shred of hope to cling on to. “Yes, but I didn't know--”

“I didn't either. Not until this.” Geralt's hands came to rest over Jaskier's stomach, rubbing at the stretched skin. He bit his lip and kneaded into the soft, doughy skin, making Jaskier shiver under his touch. The more he touched, the more turned on Jaskier became. The more the tension leaked out of his muscles. The more he actually relaxed, until he was a boneless pile under Geralt's gentle ministrations.

The Witcher straddled his thighs and bent down, lips caressing over the skin of Jaskier's stomach. Jaskier could barely see him over the top of his stomach when Geralt dipped lower to kiss near his pelvic bone. The bard's hips bucked and Geralt went to hold them down, finding Jaskier's pliant love handles to hang onto.

Geralt laved the skin with his tongue, circling Jaskier's naval before biting at a patch of pudgy fat right beside him. This earned a howl of pleasure from the bard, and so Geralt made it his mission to cover Jaskier's stomach in love marks.

“Want to fuck you.” Geralt whispered, nuzzling his face against the fat of Jaskier's tummy. He reached over for the vial of oil they kept on the bedside table and Jaskier keened beneath him.

“Please!”

The whole time he worked him open, Geralt whispered praises into Jaskier's stomach and thighs (which he wound up biting as well). Jaskier was red with arousal and embarrassment, unable to stop writhing beneath Geralt as the Witcher prepared him, scissoring him open and complimenting how lovely and wide his ass had gotten.

Sliding in took no effort at all, and suddenly their bodies were flush against each other. Geralt helped Jaskier to wrap his much heavier legs around his middle and began rocking with the bard in a rhythm only the two of them could follow. For the most part, Jaskier just lay there and kissed at every inch of Geralt that he could reach. He made sure the Witcher's lips were kiss swollen and bitten, his neck covered in hickeys that would match the ones on his stomach.

The contrast between Geralt's rock hard abs and Jaskier's incredibly soft stomach was one that was clearly working for the two of them. Geralt had tried to reach between them to find Jaskier's cock at one point, but thought better of it when Jaskier announced he could get off without being touched. Instead, Geralt gripped at one of Jaskier's sides, pawing at the puppy fat that resided there and giving it a harsh squeeze that would leave marks in the morning. The whole time Jaskier writhed beneath him, head thrown back on the pillow, mouth hanging open as he panted from the effort it took to keep up with the Witcher.

“G-Geralt, I'm--”

“Cum for me.”

Jaskier moaned loudly, forehead resting against Geralt's, blue eyes pouring into gold.

“Cum for me, Jaskier.” Geralt kissed him thoroughly and with tongue, licking into his mouth. “You're beautiful.”

And Jaskier believed it. He came with a shout that sounded vaguely like Geralt's name, splattering both their bellies in his cum.

Geralt drove his way home, burying himself in the bard before his back bowed and he painted Jaskier's insides with his seed.

With one last kiss to Jaskier's swollen lips, Geralt pulled out. He went to the basin of water in the corner of the room and retrieved a wet washcloth, coming back to wipe both of them clean. After that he rolled Jaskier onto his side and slipped into bed behind him, wrapping his arms around him, his hands resting on his stomach. It stuck out impressively before both of them, fat and jiggling.

“You really don't mind?” Jaskier asked, voice sounding much too small for Geralt's liking.

Geralt dropped a kiss to the back of Jaskier's neck, where his hair was shorter. “I love it. I love you. All of you. No matter what you look like.”

Jaskier's eyes were blown wide, though Geralt couldn't exactly see them at the current moment. “You've never said that before.”

“Hm.” was Geralt's only response besides the hug that he gave Jaskier.

“Well, if you don't mind, then neither do I!” Jaskier decided, smiling widely. “Besides, I feel like it might be a...thing for both of us. You seem to enjoy my belly very much.”

He was met with a pinch which made him laugh loudly. “Remind me to thank Valdo the next time I see him for making our sex lives that much more interesting.”

“He's dead.” Geralt replied, sounding nonplussed by the whole ordeal.

“Oh,” Jaskier remarked, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “Was it at least a painful death?”

He felt Geralt nod behind him. “Very.”

Jaskier laughed once more and covered Geralt's hands with his own on his belly. “My hero.”


End file.
